


h o m e

by ameriboo



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Drinking, F/M, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Pining, Smoking, Song: Home (Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros), Songfic, minor mention of ash/serena, minor mention of misty/georgio, takes place after kalos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 03:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameriboo/pseuds/ameriboo
Summary: After not seeing each other for years, Misty receives news that Ash is returning to Kanto.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i don't own anything!

**.**

**.**

**.**

" **home is wherever i'm with you"**

They are young on their adventure, visiting Pallet before the upcoming Pokemon League.

It started with a promise made to Delia Ketchum, from her son Ash and his friend Misty, to tidy up the attic. Ash asked for his old collection of trading cards from before he left on his journey, to which his mom pointed to the upstairs attic, with an unreadable smile on her face. Before Ash and Misty could even realize, they were crawling around in dust as Brock and Mrs. Ketchum started on supper. Both Pikachu and Togepi abandoned their trainers for treats and warm pillows.

"We got bamboozled," Ash whines, rubbing his eyes in irritation from the dust circulating around them. They are sitting alone in the dimness of the attic, feeling uneasy at the sight of heirlooms that only a country home would have hidden away.

Misty rolls her water eyes at him, putting a washcloth in his hand as she holds up a feather duster. "No, you got us bamboozled."

The ten-year-old groans and throws himself on the wooden floor earning a large squeak with every movement. "I just want my trading cards!"

She finds a corner and begins cleaning. "The quicker we get started, the quicker we can get out of here."

"But Misty-"

"Don't you 'Misty' me," she tells him. "Don't you want to help out your mom?"

"Of course, I love my mom," he pouts. She waves the duster in his face in a warning. "Then get to cleaning!"

Ash groans outwardly, wiping down whatever was around him with quick motions. Boxes upon boxes of miscellaneous treasures, memories, and straight up junk collected over the years. Misty shuffles around, eyeing old picture frames covered in a thin layer of dust.

She picks up an old frame that laid atop of box of photo albums, eyeing how withered the photograph looked. It was a photo of a younger man with dark hair and a toothy smile. He looked happy and familiar to her. Like a face, she'd find on an old movie poster from a decade ago.

Misty holds up the frame up towards the slight source of light coming from an itsy window in the corner of the room. She catches sight of Ash's confused face staring intently at her. Then, realization hits.

"What's wrong?" Ash asks, crawling over and taking a seat beside her.

"Nothing," Misty fibs. "It's just that, I was looking at this."

The boy reaches over her and runs his finger over the photo, wiping away at the gray film covering. He gives the picture behind the glass an ambivalent smile.

"I haven't seen this face in a while," Ash admits, a hint of sadness lacing his tongue. "Mom put these up here a long time ago…"

His head hangs low as he focuses on the photo.

She looks at the boy who suddenly seemed eons beyond her. His presence seems unrecognizable. Tears were shed when Butterfree was sent away, and Misty has often seen him stomp his foot at losing a battle.

This, however, felt different.

The attic was silent till the tiny sound of drops pelting the frame echoed between them. Misty watches his big brown eyes shake, brimming with tears.

She pales.

"Ash," she says with concern, voice quiet. "Ash, you're crying."

"Huh?" His calloused fingertips reach for his now wet cheeks. "Oh."

Empathetic eyes settle on Ash's face, but it hangs down. He lets out a strained chuckle, pressing the palm of his hand to his left eye. "The dust got the best of me."

She frowns. "It's okay to cry."

"Thinking about him doesn't make me feel okay," he responds honestly.

A memory of her parents, tragically together and desperate for an escape, leaving their girls behind causes Misty's thudding chest to ache as she remembers how foolish she felt sobbing that night. How she called for their names and no one answered.

In the attic, they aren't the usual youthful trainers full of fire and spunk. Here they are children left behind by the people who brought them into the world. Misty understood Ash.

"Then for now, you don't have to," she assures, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to explain yourself or make an excuse, you aren't the one who left. Things like this are never easy. Keeping old photos in the attic, hiding away the memories—those things are easy. Remembering them aren't."

To think, not so long ago they vowed to never ever care about one another yet here she was cursing his father's familiar face and cowardice for leaving her friend nothing but his features and heartache. He looks so small now, she thinks. Like she walked into his past and met him the day his father went to pick up a pack of cigarettes, leaving a frail Delia and confused little boy behind.

Ash looks up at her, his deep brown eyes filled with emotion peering into her every sense of empathy. "Did they do it to you too, Misty?"

The redhead appears taken back, not being able to fully remember the last time she ever spoke word of her parents and when they left.

She nods, drawing blood from her cheek from clenching her mouth tightly. "And I still haven't forgiven them."

"I forgave him for our sake," Ash confides in her. "But I still miss him. I….I loved him."

Her nose flares out of growing anger, picturing his father walking away from a little boy. She wishes for the man to face the worst of luck, screaming expensive parking tickets and rainy days into the nothingness.

"It's okay to miss him," she tells him. "It's okay to be angry and sad and wanting to throw it in his face."

"I…don't want to miss him," the boy admits, wiping his runny nose. "Sometimes I think about how when I become a Master all my dad could do is watch from afar. He'll see how I did it without him."

Misty grins, "And you'll do it well."

A small smile breaks across his face. "You—you think so?"

"If you actually stop screwing up during battles."

"Very funny," he states, followed by a shallow laugh.

The boy breathes deeply, pressing his forehead against the nook of her neck as the nerves settle. Slowly, he leans into her and she lets him, blinking in confusion before brushing the back of his head with her fingers. Misty takes note of how much softer his hair felt then it looked, how vulnerable Ash could be. How she secretly wished she was like him, the boy with his heart on his sleeve, able to forgive and cry. This boy, this stranger who made her want to wring his neck, easily became a friend.

There are no jabs to the gut or insults thrown, as they both sit in silence as Ash pieces himself back together. Misty returns to arranging as Ash dusts and they barely finish before dinner. He puts the portrait in the corner of the room, cleaned with a rag and left in the dark.

They don't say a word to Brock, they don't mention the tears. They hold it between them, like a spit handshake promise children use to keep a secret on the playground. Laughter fills the dining room over dinner.

 _It's warmer now,_ Misty thinks _._

. . .

Dusks falls, and the sky is colored like rainbow sherbet. They left Johto but the memories stay. A memory she was not ready to approach again came to in the form of her old bicycle, orange and fixed, one of the only things of hers that were no hand-me-down. Holding the handlebars felt bittersweet.

Ash, Misty, and Brock stand on the long crossroads with their exposed hearts pumping loudly in their chests. After the abrupt phone call from Cerulean City, Misty felt like the news smacked her in the face. She feels like it's hitting Ash slowly, approaching him step by step while Brock accepts reality like an old friend, standing mature for the sake of the younger two.

Togepi chirps as the baby always does while Pikachu puts on a brave face.

From Celadon to Saffron, they've been everywhere together.

Her care and consideration for them bubbled to the surface as she lists off Ash's morning rituals as a reminder, fully knowing how she won't be there anymore to remind him. Telling Brock not to get distracted by pretty girls, knowing that their antics of ear pulling and chuckling about heartache will end eventually.

Through everything they have been through, running freely throughout new adventures side by side, she hopes that no matter the circumstance, Ash does his best. For him to go on, for him to succeed, even without her support she hopes that he doesn't back down. Fortunately, her gut is telling her that he'll truck on without her even if it is a despairing truth.

Things feel so heavy and real, as they reach the point of no return by every step forward. But her eyes linger on Ash, looking an inch and a half taller, telling her that fate was to blame for their friendship and that there are no strange chances between the two of them. That it is no mere coincidence, that he met her out of all people. It made her insides light.

Yet she understands. He looks back at her, eyes warm and earnest, reassuring her that he feels the same. Despite her doubts and her running away at the drop of the news of returning home, she knows that the adventure is not over. That a new path was drawn but it did not fit all three of them. Fate drew a line that leads her in the opposite direction from Ash Ketchum, her annoyance and burden. Her friend.

Man, oh man, her  _best_  friend.

It was something she would have to accept for now, as she digs her nails into the soft part of her handlebars to ease tension.  _Saying goodbye is never easy for us_ , Misty thinks. But she hopes that there will be another hello down the road. Despite the hopeful outlook and her upcoming journey back to her hometown, looking at Ash for what may be the last time in a long time, made her feel homesick. She swallows the lump in her throat and coughs awkwardly, catching the trainer's attention.

He turns to her, hands clenched at his side looking like he was stepping up for a battle he didn't prepare for.

"Take care, Ash," Misty tells him, facing him head-on.

Ash nods, standing tall. "You too, Misty."

"Will…I see you again?"

The color of the sea meets the color of earth, eye to eye, and she swears at that moment everything will be okay.

"You will, I swear."

. . .

Departing from a Zeppelin, Misty breathes in the sea salt air that laces Hoenn in attempt to calm that nauseous pit sitting in her stomach. She smiles weakly at the thought of all the paperwork she'd have to return to once her trip ends, but negativity subsides at the thought of who was waiting for her. Her long legs swayed as she raced towards the figures before her.

The boys are in her line of sight, wearing grins as wide as her own and instantly, the nerves coiling around her heart and stomach fading.

Ash Ketchum, his energy and laugh familiar, calls her name waving his hands in the air madly, and at the sight of him, it strangely feels like coming home to a brewed tea and warm blanket after a long day at work.

Greeted by the sunshine energy of new faces, as May and Max look at her in awe. Togepi radiates its own joyful energy, sending it to Misty. She accepts it, squeezing Togepi with affection as she anticipates the reunion.

. . .

The ocean-eyed leader boards the Zeppelin empty-handed with nothing but a new memory, her arms missing a familiar warmth. She gives Ash, Brock, May, and Max a strong smile, promising them that they would all see each other soon. Her eyes were watery during the initial good-bye between her and her togepi, but now the goodbye is seeping into her, especially now that she had to leave her friends, so they can continue their travels. Tears began brimming the young girl's inky lashes as a salty wet trail slid down her cheek and landed on her lap. Her lap that once held a little cream-colored ball that held her happiness in its innocence.

Misty sits in the aircraft, scrubbing at the trails running down her cheeks. Her nose sniffs, trying to hold back a sob coming from the back of her throat. She holds her knees to her chest, hiding her blotchy face into them as she shakes in her seat.

She wishes she wasn't alone. Wishes that a gloved hand could touch her back and push out every cry, every tremble she was holding within her chest. Instead, it heaved and heaved relentlessly, as she hoped these goodbyes eased with time.

. . .

Gray clouds hang heavy in the sky outside, a thin sheet of rain gracing Saffron City as the droplets blur the lines of the world. Summer brought warm showers to Kanto, to which Misty accepted the rain with love and only minor annoyance.

She cannot believe it was already summer. The seasons are relentless—never waiting on people to catch up on sleep or work. When on her journey, she sometimes found that time itself couldn't touch her and her friends as they hopped from city to town idly. They were youthful then; now, as the seasons pass rapidly, she often reflects on how rapidly time has gone since her last encounter with Ash.

From Hoenn to Sinnoh, from Sinnoh to Unova. Ash has traces in all of them, enveloping himself into each culture and people. She hears about it when he sends postcards, letters, and care packages. Misty finds it hilarious how even at his age Ash sucked at technology. His use of emoticons is the most impressive thing, but Misty doesn't want to admit it makes up for the lack of proper spelling. It's so very Ash.

He sends pictures almost every time. Images of people and pokémon in a quaint small town or Pikachu napping on a beach. He sends her loads of his traveling companions and she quickly learns how lucky Ash is to be able to befriend almost anyone. She was somewhat jealous at his capability to vibe with Dawn, Iris, and Cilan—all of them so different but all remain to be dear friends.

Misty tried her best to keep up with every story and image, but the calls and letters decreased little by little as the time went on. Mail gets lost, people get tied up—she understood it all. Even she had to force herself to reply when there was too much work to be done, but she prides herself in knowing she tries. She tries to be there, even when she can't be.

Brock is in a lot of pictures Ash and him, have sent while he still traveled throughout Hoenn and Sinnoh. Now, Brock has been back in their homeland studying day and night on his way to becoming a medical professional for a little more than over a year. At his arrival, she welcomed him with opened arms, a slap on the back, and a set of high quality pens for his cram sessions. He pouted at the lack of freedom of the road and chances of meeting pretty women to which Misty poked his ribs, assuring him there will be plenty of pretty women out of his league in Saffron University.

She missed him while her pseudo-brother was away but due to their hectic schedules it was difficult to meet, so she persistently took time to travel into Saffron for lunch dates and sleepovers at his apartment.

Currently, Brock is running a couple of minutes late due to the rain pouring outside. Luckily for Misty, she was sitting comfortably in the café that was ten minutes away from his classroom. Both her and Brock fell in love with its arrangement of coffees and teas and the puffed pastries.

The leader sits by the long windows beside a bunch of succulents, watching the droplets dance on the glass. The outside world looked like a blur to the human eye, but to her it looked full of magic and softness. Misty peaks down at the mustard yellow backpack at her feet, choosing to ignore the paperwork and laptop calling her name from the bag. She groans, kicking the backpack under the table. The gym can wait just a bit for today, she needed her coffee and peace to keep her motivated.

From the corner of her eye, she spots a tall young man dash into the café slightly drenched. He makes his way over to her looking all types of exhausted.

"Yesterday was perfectly sunny so explain to me why it is so ugly out now," Brock groans, quickly reaching to give her hair a quick tousle. "Anyway, it's good to see you perfectly dry."

She giggles, "Umbrellas usually help with that."

"Har har," he spouts, setting down his satchel and books. "Do you want the usual?"

"Can you get a matcha latte for me instead? Feeling adventurous."

"Well you are a wild child," Brock states. He breathes in the scent of warm bread and steps to the counter, making heart eyes at the brunette barista and the arrangement of beautifully crafted carbs all around.

Misty rolls her eyes at him but thinks of time in Johto they stopped in a coffee shop, young and interested in iced frappuccinos, only for Brock to flirt with the manager and Ash spitting out his mocha frappe because it was slightly bitter. He didn't listen when she insisted that it had coffee in it to which he stuck out his tongue teasingly, and just assumed anything with whipped cream on it had to taste like a milkshake.

Reflecting on those times really put Misty in a strange state. Half of her in love with the past as the other half thinks the future holds just as much promise. The memories often left her grateful that they happened, but she would be lying if she didn't slightly use her accomplishments and new experiences to fill up missing Togepi, her boys, and her past life.

Her past life of adventures, some involving legendary pokémon ending the world while others were simply sharing chocolate candy with her best friend during a festival.

It was more than putting in extra hours training or renovating the gym because those were duties she respected and took responsibility for. It was the trying cigarettes then liking it and the kissing people with vigor—it was the deep night swimming alone at sea she didn't mention to anyone. Everything was a new experience but part of her thought nothing was as sweet as chocolate pieces on top of a Ferris wheel overlooking the festival lights. Those times she spent with Ash.

Brock returns, drinks and sweets in hand, and sits on the other side of the wooden table. She smiles warmly, giving him a 'thanks' before taking a bite out of the lavender pound cake placed in front of her. He is always good at people, knowing what they want and need. Brock could read Misty easily as a magazine at a dental office. Which is mostly is why Misty keeps him as a close ally in life, fully aware that he could easily destroy her. He knows too much.

"How was the ride over here?" Brock asks, taking a sip of his hazelnut cold brew. "You came later than usual, everything okay at the gym?"

"It was longer than I expected," she replies, blowing into her latte. "Daisy's car really needs maintenance work, so I was thinking maybe getting Gary to come by and look at it. Anyway, the gym is fine it's just dealing with the league not wanting to fully insure has given me such a headache. We haven't made a claim in years! I'm not as young as I was when I started, you think they would have a little more faith."

Bringing the decorative mug to her face, she hums into her sip savoring the taste of green tea.

"The league loves to treat the younger leaders like their interns that keep getting the takeout orders wrong," Brock points out, arms folded over his chest like a father in thought. "I remember when dad left, and I had to take over, everything was such a nightmare when it came to inspections and child services. Anyway, don't stress out too much—the league likes you. They aren't subtle about favoritism, I just think they like to give you a hard time to see how well you do under pressure."

Misty forces a strained smile. "I do  _excellent_."

He looks at her like she's ten again, letting out a short laugh. "You always do, Mist."

Her eyes shift from her backpack to Brock's satchel, thinking how no matter they were in life they could relate to each other. They spoke passionately of nausea during stressful responsibilities, about their siblings and about how hard it was not to get choked up about attractive people you sincerely liked.

"Brock, can I ask you if you miss it?" Misty asks, wondering about how someone could be a leader, breeder, and med student all in one. "Being a gym leader, or even on the road being a breeder. Do you miss any of it?"

"I miss it all," Brock answers truthfully, looking at the passersby walking past the café window. "I think I missed my siblings more than the battling but even I like to get riled up in the heat of it. And my heart is in breeding, it brought me to where I am now. On the road with you guys. With May, Max, Dawn, Ash and you—I miss waking up in a near town or making a mystery stew with whatever we could get our hands on."

"If you miss it, why not return to it?"

"Think of it like this, it's like thinking about how good a curry sauce would be but right now, there is no curry sauce. Only a tabasco, so I use the tabasco and it still turns out just as good."

"Brock…..wow."

"Sometimes it even comes out even better!"

Misty's eyebrows shoot up, fazed by his words. "You—you are such a domestic. How dare you use sauce examples to get your feelings across."

"The point still stands. Do I miss it? Of course, but missing something doesn't keep me from enjoying something else. Living in the now is what makes life grand—every love confession counts! Gotta shoot your shot before the world ends."

"You are an unbelievable rock of a complex man," she states. "Truly, I don't know how you do it."

"Lots and lots of caffeine," he says before taking a swig of his drink.

Brock's words settle into her. Misty's heart is heavy with reminiscing of the past and missing who and what was part of it. She doesn't tell Brock that at night her heart asks for Ash, missing how he'd tell her goodnight in a soft voice as they settled in their sleeping bags. How it would make her younger self hold her hand to her chest, clenching her crop top out of schoolgirl giddy. How she hid her bright blushing face the color of cherries into her goldeen sleeping bag.

"Speaking of complex men," her pseudo-brother starts, leaning his arms against the edge of the table. "Apparently, Ash is coming back home."

"For good?" she asks, wearing a curious expression despite already knowing the answer to the question. She already knows where this is leading to.

About a week or two ago, Misty and Brock and all their people in Pallet watched as their golden boy placed Top Eight in the Vertress Conference, the championship competition for the Unova League. Ash and his team made them all proud, as he supported his pokémon through it all. It was strange to Misty as she analyzed him through the other side of the screen, as the boy who was heartbroken over his first major loss. She saw what he had become with immense pride, even if part of her wished she was in the stands screaming for him to tighten up. Seeing the experience of him smiling after a loss, instead of tears. His tears always influenced her.

"Is he coming alone?"

"His friends are coming along—"

Misty perks up. "Well they can stay at the gym for a couple of days! I'll email Ash seeing if—"

Brock shakes his head. "I think it's only for a Monday and Tuesday of next week, Mist. He's arriving in Vermillion then he's staying a day in Pallet for Delia then he said the Kalos region is his next destination."

In her eyes, destinations are nonstop for that kid.

She takes a moment to recollect her thoughts of Delia waving goodbye to her boy and of Ash probably not returning her calls in time for them to meet up.

Brock notices her frown and sends her an empathetic look.

"I have people coming for plumbing on next Monday and Tuesday," she tells him with disappointment. "Are you able to see him?"

He shakes his head once again. "Got an exam on Tuesday, and a study session all afternoon the day before. I'm sure Ash will send his love."

"You're right," she nods, looking at the residual green foam of her latte. "He can be forgetful, but I'm sure he will. Let's hope he makes Kalos his bitch."

Brock smiles. "Amen to that."

"Anyway," Misty begins, the images of chocolate pieces and championships subsiding from her mind, "let's talk about your study date with Sabrina."

Brock chokes on his drink and Misty giggles at the redness of his ears. At that moment, spending time with one of her oldest and closest friends, she felt full.

. . .

An early summer morning, Misty wakes up to a brown parcel covered in colorful stickers and foreign stamps. She opens the package to find treasures hidden in a sea of pink packing peanuts.

She smiles at the bag of chocolate candies and a box of rose tea.

Digging deeper she finds an envelope filled with a stack of photographs, a drawing done in crayon, and a letter.

Misty shuffles through the stack of photos. She recognizes Lumoise City and its Prism Tower. Images of blue coasts and the Kalosian countryside cause her heart to melt. The region is truly beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as the golden-haired girl smiling sweetly in every other photo. Other photos feature a boy wearing round coke bottle glasses and a bright-eyed little girl. Both with cornstarch colored-hair. Misty thinks to herself that blonde hair and blue eyes must be genetically common in Kalos.

"Ash must really stand out when he's with them," Misty says to herself, flipping to a photo. It was a group shot.

Clemont and Serena looked to be caught between a laugh as Ash's tan arms wrapped around their shoulders in a tight hold. Pikachu's grin matched his trainers as the yellow pokémon was sitting on Bonnie's head. The photo was posed for, but Misty sees how genuinely close they all were to one another.

His scrawny, boyish features replaced by smooth, prominent muscles. In his arms and shoulders, the way he filled out his shirt. Ash had not only grown taller, but he had  _grown_. Ash's growth brings her inner schoolgirl to a tingle as she wonders if he is now taller than her. It reassures her knowing her own development didn't leave him behind like she feared.

The years have molded Misty like a ceramic piece, a body of curves and length. Stretchmarks intricately painted on her hips, chest, and legs as proof of how quickly puberty hit her. Her sisters warned her how common it was for girls in their family to bloom early, earning strange stares from people on the streets and being unable to fit into old swimsuits. Now as a teenager, she accepted having to let go of much of her childhood. She is relieved to see she isn't the only one.

Misty places the photos on the table beside the parcel. At the corner of her eye, she spots pastel blue paper. A sweet whiff of sugar and roses hits her nose when she lifts it up, opening it to find Ash's bold handwriting on flowery stationery.

_To Misty,_

_How jealous are you of me right now? I don't even like coffee but there are cafes on almost every street here! It took some time, but I made sure to take pictures of things you would like to see. Serena and Clemont thought I should send them some traditional Kalosian stuff. I ate some of your chocolate already, so trust me when I say they are yummy. Things here are different than Kanto—their street food is really fancy and they don't have any normal hamburgers. Everything is super sweet here which a blessing and a curse._

_The last time we talked was when you called me after the Lumoise Conference finals, but it was short so Bonnie said she'd help me get this together. Thanks for the call by the sorry that I was a little blue. But please let me know what you think of the mermaid drawing Bonnie drew for you—she's pretty good with crayons and loves feedback. I thought you would like stuff from Kalos the most, I remember how you've always wanted to visit. Even though I'm leaving soon, maybe in the future we can come back. So, I'm leaving for Kanto in a bit. There are some things I feel like I gotta handle but I'll be in Pallet soon—and I think I'm gonna stay a while before the next step, ya know?_

_Been feeling pretty homesick._

_I'll call you when I'm gonna be in Pallet. Get ready for some stories._

_See you soon!_

_-Ash_

"See you soon…" she reads to herself, pressing her fingertips into the paper. Misty's face scrunches up in thought.

She anticipated a quick message followed by a smudge doodle of his pikachu. Not the sweets or the fresh smell of roses. Even if the chocolates made her shed a tear of joy, it doesn't compare to her knowing that he was finally coming home.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notes: they will reunite soon dudes. ash and misty always do! please let me know what you think. much love!


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't own anything!

 

**.**

**.**

**.**

" **follow you into the park-**

**through the jungle, through the dark"**

The train ride from Cerulean City to Pallet Town takes three hours. Misty has used the transportation system on many occasions, mostly to go enjoy the countryside with Delia on her days off. Misty felt like Pallet was a home away from home when she'd be welcomed into the Ketchum home with a glass of lemonade waiting for her. She'd accompany Delia on her trips to the market, stop by Professor Oak's home to visit him and Tracey. Times of them all sitting together in the Oak estate swapping stories and good laughs.

The Ketchum home is a twenty-minute walk from the train station. The path is one of rubble and dirt, surrounded by lush tall grass and fresh flowers born in the spring. She spends the walk listening to her music, trying to drown out the eerie nervousness that grew in the pit of her stomach.

Misty releases a low groan at the thought of Ash Ketchum and his dopey grin. What would he say when he sees her? What if something changed between them? She was so heavy in thought she didn't realize she grew so close.

Blue-green eyes fixate on the white home before her, with its red roof and lush garden. Beside the garden is Delia Ketchum, wearing her straw gardening hat, tending to her flora with the utmost care. She was a caregiver in so many ways.

Delia turns at the sound of Misty's steps and shows her a smile as bright as her yellow sunflowers.

"Misty, dear! You made it safe and sound!" Delia sheds her gardening gloves to the side, holding her hand out to pull Misty into a hug. "I'm so happy to see you!"

Misty returns the hug, noticing how strange it was that she was about a good few inches taller than Delia. "Thanks for having me, Mrs. Ketchum."

"Always so polite," Delia laughs, wrinkles around her eyes and mouth forming. To Misty, age touched her beautifully. "Let's get some food in you."

They walk through the door, the scent of herbs and spices hitting Misty's nose. At first glance, Misty sees that this time there were two glasses of lemonade at the kitchen table.

Misty reaches for a glass and takes a sip.

"Is he not here yet?" she asks, seeing that there were no signs of Ash.

"You know that boy, late as always," the brunette replies, as she makes her way to check on the pasta sauce. "He said he'd be here by dinner time—he'd went ahead to Samuel's to see his pokémon."

"They must be ecstatic," Misty replies, making her way over to the framed photograph of her, Ash, and Brock from many summers ago. "He gets to rough house with them for a couple of hours."

"As he always does."

Misty reaches for the frame, her fingertips lingering on the faces of her past. Ash's smile always took up his whole face, Misty recalls fondly. "Do you need any help?" She asks, loud enough for Delia to hear her while in the kitchen.

"Love, no offense but the last time you helped you needed two butterfly stitches," Delia giggles as she stirs. "Don't worry, you just settle down."

Misty groans. It wasn't her fault she wasn't good at mincing or handy with a kitchen knife. It wasn't her fault that her specialty meals were fried eggs and unburnt popcorn.

Memories of her and Ash mixing up strange curries and stews for Brock on special days flooding her mind. They'd giggle as they poured the sweet sauce with savory pastes together like witches brewing their own concoctions. The memory of Brock forcing himself to eat a spoonful of their creation. The memory of them laughing till they cried, wrapped around each other. It was a simpler time.

Now she had a salary and was able to order take out every other night. Home cooked meals, by the fire or at the table, were rare. Misty peeks around the kitchen entrance, watching as Delia preps the last ingredients. A warm smile, pouring love into every movement. Ash Ketchum was the blessed, able to come back home to his mother's meals. Delia seemed overjoyed to have her son back after so long, to have him visit for more than a week.

Ash Ketchum had been missed in so many ways.

"Mom—"

Misty stiffens at the sound of the voice. Turning around to see a sun-kissed boy, his clothes rustled and covered in dirt, at the door. It wasn't unusual for him to throw a door open, walking in without walking. Before she could blink a yellow flash bolted, jumping into Misty's arms.

"Ah-Pikachu!" She chirps, enveloping the pokémon in her arms.

"Misty?" The figure asks softly, dark eyes widen in surprise at the sight of her.

The old friends lock gazes as the varying hues of ochre and orange grace the home through the window, casting warm light throughout the room. It was golden hour; he arrived as the sun was beginning to set.

 _Funny_ , she thinks,  _we first met right before sunset._

On the verge of her heart spitting out of her mouth, her lips curl into an odd smile

"Welcome home, Ash."

His face splits into something beautiful. A smile that reminded her of everything bright in the world.

"I'm home."

. . .

As usual, they went to bed with full stomachs after eating dinner and dessert crafted by Delia Ketchum. Unlike when they were ten, Ash's mother served them glasses of alcoholic apple cider. Misty liked the crisp bubbles while Ash liked the sweetness.

The three of them spent hours into the night talking.

As Delia went on and on about plans to roast some sunflower seeds by the end of the season, Ash tried to sneak bites from Misty's piece of cheesecake. After playfully pinching Ash, she pushed her plate closer to him, so he could finish, and continued to listen to Delia speak about her passions.

Before saying goodnight, Delia sets out a futon on Ash's bedroom floor.

The room barely changed from when he initially left for his journey. Dust never collected on any shelf or toy, Misty knew Delia regularly cleaned Ash's room.

She changed into her pajamas as Ash used the restroom, setting her clothes on the futon. They pass each other as Misty made her way to the bathroom, jokingly jabbing each other in the ribs while at the door frame.

By the time Misty returns, her clothes folded on top of her duffel bag and Ash turned over in the mint green futon, eyes closed.

Just like when they were ten, he still finds a way to discreetly offer his bed without making a big fuss. She remembers the first time she stayed over his house, Ash told her to be careful climbing the ladder up to the bed as it tends to be wobbly. Embarrassed, he couldn't look her in the eye as his chubby cheeks grew red.

Misty would never forget the look on his face.

Ash couldn't see her face but if he looked up, he'd see a fond glint in her eyes.

She climbs up the ladder, shuffles into the warm flannel sheets, letting out a long yawn as she stretched out. Misty looks over the rail of the bed frame, looking at his curled body from above.

"Goodnight, Ash. See you in the morning."

A moment of silence.

"Night, Misty," he replies, turned away from her. She couldn't see his face due to the darkness and the angle, nor could she see him hide his burning ears under a blanket. "…. Sweet dreams."

. . .

Misty dangles two fishing poles over Ash's sprawled out body. She could see spots of drool on where he laid his head. After jingling her lures for more than a couple of minutes, he finally responds in a loud groan.

"Wakey, wakey," she sings, making her arrangement of lures dance.

Ash digs his index fingers into the corner of his eyes, picking out the morning boogers. He wipes the gunk on Pikachu's fur, earning a soft whack of the tired creature's tail.

He squints at an already dressed Misty. Hair down, wearing a cropped true red halter top and dark denim shorts on. It was barely seven o'clock.

"Are you Death finally taking me?" He asks her, voice sleepy and low. She bites the inner of her cheek at how cute he sounded in the morning.

"Sure," she replies, throwing him one of his t-shirts. "If you consider Hell a fishing hole."

"A fishing hole sounds a lot more like purgatory."

Misty rolls her eyes. "Meet you downstairs," she states, turning outside into the hallway. "Your mom has eggs and rice waiting for us."

"I love eggs," he says wistfully, pulling his t-shirt over his bed head. "Let's go, Pikachu."

As Ash and Misty enter the kitchen, welcomed with a warm smile and good morning. Downstairs, Delia had the home smelling like fresh white rice as Mr. Mime helped her with breakfast, placing soy sauce and brown eggs on the table. Misty set out the plates and forks as Ash set out the napkins and glasses.

They all sit down together, cracking their eggs into the bowls of hot rice and mixing it together with the sauce and seaweed flakes. The bite took Misty back to adolescence. Ash's mother knew comfort food well.

"So," Delia begins, "what plans do you have for today?"

Ash's drowsy eyes narrow at an alert Misty. "Misty's making us fish."

"Way to sound grateful," Misty interjects, setting aside rice for Pikachu. "I just think it would be a good way to wind down."

"Absolutely," Delia says enthusiastically, clapping in delight. "It almost makes you want to join you today."

Ash's eyebrows perk up. "Mom, you're always invited."

Delia giggles. "Thank you, love. Unfortunately, I'm joining Samuel on an overnight trip in Viridian City. It's a conference on grass-type pokémon that has a botany show! Samuel said I would adore the garden and the greenhouse. Isn't that exciting?"

Ash's faces twist in confusion. His mom said nothing about an overnight trip with Professor Oak.

"The Professor is a really smart man," Misty murmurs in Ash's ear when Delia wasn't looking. "He really…. gets your mom."

"Easy now," Ash whisper backs, scowling.

"Will you two be alright for the night?"

Ash and Misty look at each other, sharing a rebellious glint in their eyes. Two grins widening at the shared thought of late night adventures and feet on the furniture.

Delia sends the teenagers a look. "Pikachu," she points at the ball of yellow chewing on rice, "you're in charge."

Pikachu chirps in an agreement.

. . .

Thirty minutes later, after kissing Mrs. Ketchum goodbye and good luck, the trainers are out the door with a cooler of fresh fruits and fishing rods. Ash suggested a waterhole that he and Gary use to fight over when they were younger. He assured her he always caught the larger magikarp, and that he was always the winner. She laughs at the fib.

Down the dirt path, they spot a clearing with a body of clear water at its center. Pallet Town held so many secrets and untouched nature that Misty fell more and more in love with it with each visit.

They lay a blanket down, taking in deep breaths and a seat beside each other. "Wanna play twenty-one questions?" Misty asks, adjusting the lure on the end of her rod. The lure was a miniature azurill.

"I'm down."

"So," she begins, "do you think your mom will go by Delia Oak or get it hyphenated to Ketchum-Oak?"

They cast their lines.

"Next question," he urges.

"Ash! That's not how you play."

Ash ignores her pouting. "And you love to play dirty. Next question."

"Fine," she chimes. "How are you?"

Ash laughs, shaking his head at her simple question. "I'm happy I'm home. How are you?"

"Happy to fish for the first time in months," she sighs dreamily. "And to see you too, I guess."

"I guess, huh?" He repeats, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. "Your turn."

Misty twists herself closer to look over Ash's shoulder. "Is that the lure I gave you?"

"What if it is?" Ash replies confidently, a knowing smile gracing his face. Misty ignores the twinge in her stomach surfacing at the sight of his gloved hand hold the little primary colored figurine.

She remembers when she initially made it. Spending the day by the water, her little toolbox and acrylic paints beside her. Putting every memory of their journey together into every stroke. Memories of them surrounded by nature, side by side.

Moments like this.

"Oh," Misty says, trying to hold back a smile. "Then I'm glad you put her to use."

"Oh yeah," Ash smiles. "She has helped a lot on fishing trips. And she doesn't critique my fishing technique like the original."

He laughs at the jab Misty twists into his stomach with her shoulder, jokingly telling her to knock it off. She persists, grabbing a cold-water bottle from the cooler and pressing it against Ash's neck before he realized what she was doing.

"Yo! Misty, chill out!" Ash squeals, earning a giggle from Pikachu who sat in his lap. "I surrender!" He puts his arm up in defeat, swinging his fishing pole around like a flag. Misty takes a drink from the water bottle before, smirking as she places it in Ash's hand.

Ash shakes his head, taking a big swig. "And you call me immature."

Misty adjusts her pole, eyeing the line drift slightly. "Not true, I think you're plenty mature. You sliced up fruit for our snack instead of packing a box of powdered donuts. I call that development."

"Fresh fruit salad is the best in this time of year," he points out. "I figured your hippie crunchy munchy self would appreciate it."

"Your mom must be so proud to see her baby boy cut his own fruit."

Ash grins back at Misty. "Aren't you proud of me?"

She rolls her eyes, smirking as she watches the watering hole gleam.

"Misty?"

"Ketchum, we're done with the bad game of twenty questions."

The ginger keeps her eyes on her lure bobbing, listening to her gut telling her to not look her best friend in the face before she feels compelled to pour out something embarrassing.

"Okay," he states. "The question wasn't part of the game."

"Then I don't have to say anything," Misty counters.

"Misty," he repeats her name, gaining her attention once more. "I'm asking you: are you proud of me?"

He sounds adamant with a hint of curiosity plaguing his tongue. She wonders if there is a reason why he continues to press on.

Does he not realize she has practically seen all his league battles? How does she wish sometimes she could be at the stands and not on the other side of the screen?

The sparks of pride that filled her when Ash won a battle or did a good deed.

"I'm proud of you," she tells him.

"I-I'm sorry, something must be in my ear," Ash pushes. "I really can't hear anything."

"Wha—we're literally sitting right next to each other!" Misty squawks. "Don't play around."

"Don't play what?"

"Ash, I'm proud of you!" Misty raises her voice. Laughter falling from her mouth, partly in disbelief how unbelievable Ash could be. "Have I ever given you a reason to believe I'm not proud of your accomplishments or of you? Because I am."

She pauses for a moment, feeling part of the wall around her heart crack. "—But if you get cocky I'll retract my statement."

Reluctantly, her eyes dart to his face in an effort to read his expression as he lingered on her answer, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches upwards.

"Nah," he admits, and then clears his throat. "To be fair, there are a lot of voice messages from you mad as hell over me risking my life or whatever."

"Can't be proud to call you my friend if I don't have you anymore, right?"

It wasn't entirely true, she would always consider Ash a friend, but making him feel a bit guilty of his actions on behalf of his loved ones.

Ash stands, his pikachu jumping from his lap to sit on the cooler beside them and looks out towards the water. Misty fixates on his profile, tiny scratches she has never seen on his cheeks and an angular jaw. Misty looks up at him, the sun behind him gracing his skin making it look like gold, and swallows the dry lump caught in her throat.

He is taller now, she thinks to herself.

Misty presses her knees together awkwardly, clenching her hands around the handle of the fishing pole, waiting for him to say anything to keep her from rambling something regrettable.

"Hey."

The depth of his voice drags Misty out of her stupor.

"You'll always have me so don't worry about that."

Taking note of Ash's sincerity, of his tightening fists and iron voice, she looks for the right words to say.

"Then don't worry about me being worried about you," Misty retorts, adjusting the drag on her spinning reel slightly. "—Because I always will."

Ash pauses, craning his neck to look at her. "…I know, and thanks."

"For what?"

"For worrying, for caring," he answers. "For being proud. All of it, I guess."

"You're…welcome."

"I even liked the voice messages," Ash admits. "It was nice hearing your voice after so long, even if you were yelling."

Misty's heart tugs at hearing him finding her voice nice. It makes her light and she finds herself trying to change the direction of the conversation.

"Next time don't recklessly jump off a tower," she shoots him a warning. "Seeing you all the way in Kalos causing a commotion almost sent your mom into a heart attack. When Gary sent me the link to the video I wasn't even surprised that it was practically your first day there."

Ash chuckles. "Kalos was a lot of fun."

"The package you sent recently, from Kalos," she mentions it, remembering the pink packing peanuts and happiness it brought her. "I forgot to thank you and everyone for it. Everything was wonderful."

"Oh, the package," Ash's eyes widen, rubbing his neck out of embarrassment. "I thought you might want a taste of Kalos considering how much you've talked about it in the past."

"I loved it. It was a surprise, but a beautiful one."

"….I'll let Bonnie, Clemont, and Serena know. They helped out a lot."

Misty smiles at him. "The letter was my favorite part."

He blinks in surprise.

"Even more than the chocolate?"

She shrugs. "A little, yeah."

"Maybe you would have liked pumpkin pie more than my letter."

They wouldn't eat them often but when they got hold of the ingredients, after begging Brock for hours to bake them one of his special desserts, they would share a whole pie. Even after a stressful day on the road or bickering, they would cave in and eagerly finish the tin while huddled in a tent or in the corner of a room in a center. Brock shaking his head as the kids share a blanket on the floor, sitting over a tin of pie with spoons in their hands smiles large on their whipped cream faces.

"Now that's not true," she offers, taking a stand and step forward. She takes off her sneakers and throws them to the side, putting her feet in the edge of the water. "No one bakes a pie like Brock, not even a fancy Kalosian baker. Plus, what's a slice without someone to share it with?"

Misty bites her tongue, catching how forward her statement must have come across.

"You that lonely, Mist?" Ash teases, earning a splash of water at his feet and a glare from her. "Hey! You're disturbing the peace, weren't you the one who wanted to go fishing?"

"Ash, you're literally the reason we haven't caught anything all day."

He fakes a gasp in protest. "Some nerve you got there, Miss Tomboyish Mermaid."

"I'm taking your condescendence as a sign to ignore you and fish in silence, Ketchum."

"Fine, fine," Ash says. "You win.'

He kicks off his socks and shoes off his feet, taking a step into the edge of the water beside her, causing Misty to shift. The day was still bright and new, as the sultry summer sun hung over them. She looks at Ash and breathes in the warm air, settling into a comfortable peace rather than a bundle of nerves. With Ash, she fells both. And hundreds of other emotions she can't quite admit out loud.

They haven't caught anything, but looking at him shine beside her, she didn't seem to mind much.

. . .

In the end, Ash and Misty caught nothing but slight tan lines. Two hours later, they made their way down aimlessly through Pallet Town's roads, passing by rustling trees and fields of wildflowers.

"Those poliwags were so cuteeeee," Misty coos, kicking her legs up in a swing motion. "If only they would have taken my bait!"

"Pallet and poliwags go together," Ash emphasizes, holding the cooler in one hand and their fishing rods in the other. Misty had their bags on her back and Pikachu held to her chest. "Mom and I use to count how many we saw when we went on nature walks as a way to get me to practice my numbers," he says, laughing a little at the memory.

"That's sweet," Misty smiles, imagining a black-haired little boy dragging his mother around in a fit of energy.

"Then she would treat me to shaved ice in town."

Misty's ears perk up. "Shaved ice you say?"

Ash pauses, catching what Misty was implying. "From a corner store on Main Street, it's like five minutes away."

"They got cherry flavored syrup?"

He sends her a knowing grin. "They got everything."

They smirk at each other.

"I'll race ya, loser pays!" Misty makes a run for it, letting a ripple of laughter escape from her chest. "Come on, Pikachu!"

"Pika pika!"

Ash groans. "Misty, Pikachu!" he yells. "That's not fair!"

He chases after her, putting every muscle and drop of energy into their strides. As if they were battling, full of life and dirt in the air, they ran free.

. . .

"How-how does losing taste?" Ash teases, huffing before taking a large swig of water. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sending Misty a shit eating grin.

She leans her hand against the wall of the corner store, catching her breath. "Ash, we tied!"

They found themselves centered in the hub of Pallet Town. Pokemon, their trainers, and townsfolk scattered around enjoying their summer day. The nostalgia of older Kanto and the potential of modern Kanto meet in Pallet. It is small but the slow-paced, kind nature of the town and its residence stood out. Unlike Cerulean City, full of romantic sites and beachy spots, Pallet Town had multiple local mom and pop places that have been part of the region for generations. Even the corner store had signs and advertisements from when Delia Ketchum was a small sunshine child.

After placing their items outside, they were greeted by a bell and an older woman sweeping at the wood floors. In the back, a young man carrying boxes disappeared into a room. "Welcome, children-oh!" Her bifocals practically fell off her face at the surprise. "Is that Ashy Ketchum? Oh, and his pikachu!" Pikachu scurries in, eyeing the array of goods throughout the store. He decides to sit in front of a fan in the corner of the room, cooing at the comfort it brought.

"Pikaaaaaaaaaaa," the yellow mouse purred into blades, sounding like an autotuned robot.

Misty smiles at the old nickname and how his country manners resurfaced. "Hi, ma'am. It's been a while."

"You barely could reach the counter last time you were here and now you could practically touch the roof! Tall and handsome trainer you are, but still got your mama's smile. Bright as the sky, I say."

"Thank you, Miss Rosa. It's good to be back in your shop! I was telling my friend earlier about your specialty shaved iced and just had to have it. It's the best in the world."

"Why," Miss Rosa blushes at the compliment, reaching over to pat Ash's cheek, "you didn't introduce me to your friend! Show your hospitality, my love!"

Misty offers her hand, smiling brightly at Miss Rosa, admiring her energetic disposition and sweet grin. "I'm Misty! It's so nice to meet you."

"My, my," the older woman sang. "You're quite beautiful, aren't you? Sun-kissed and lovely. I've seen you around town before, often with Delia and Samuel. Oh-you're the gym leader that's been seen with Gary and Tracey! A Cerulean City royal here in our town. How have you not stopped by before?"

A large amount of information comes out of Miss Rosa's mouth quick as a beedrill. Both trainers look surprised, if not impressed at how the woman could infer all of that with a single meeting.

Ash looks at Misty, slightly confused and somewhat intrigued about her visits around his hometown. He doesn't say anything, eyes pacing back and forth between Misty and the rainbow assortment of syrup bottles.

Misty blushes on sight, sweeping her hair behind her ear. "I didn't realize I stood out to that extent, ma'am."

"Dear, small townsfolk like ours have big ears and wandering eyes," she emphasizes, turning to wag a slight finger at Ash. "Ash, remember that before coming into town with a girl like her."

"—We're just friends," Ash offers, hands up in defense. "Have been for years!" From the corner of her eye, Misty takes note of Ash rubbing his neck. He seems frazzled.

Miss Rosa blinks, "And Tracey Sketchit and Gary Oak?"

"We're also just friends," Misty assures her, giving the shop owner a forced smile.

Miss Rosa's eyes glint behind her bottle cap glasses. "Really? Hm."

The woman shuffles behind the counter, behind her a wall of photographs and paintings. Multiple scenes of nature, smiling patrons faces, and old memories taking up the entire wall.

She places her apron down, taking a magazine from behind the cash register and checking the clock on the wall. "Oh! It's my break time! I'll send my grandson to ring ya'll up, just a sec." Within a second, a gray head shuffles towards the back carrying a devilish grin on her face.

"I-I," Ash whispers to Misty, "have never heard about that woman take a break a day in her life."

The friends look at each other, trying to make sense of the situation and the strange aura Miss Rosa left them in. Misty hopes to herself that the heat that rose to her cheeks wasn't noticeable.

They could hear slight bickering from the back room of the store.

"Gram-ouch! Don't push!" Brown and teal eyes perked up to see Miss Rosa rock a young man in an apron forward in their direction. It was the stock boy from earlier.

The brown-haired man stood feet above his grandmother, with defined arms and a wide chest covered by a flimsy green apron. His dark skin healthy with calloused hands. Light freckles kissing his face, hazel eyes turning into saucers at the sight of Ash and Misty.

He was the definition of a boy born and raised in the country.

"Ashy, you remember my grandson Willy?" Miss Rosa hangs off her grandson's forearm, practically swinging from it with pride. Ash blinks. "Will?"

Will gives Ash an exasperated smile, reaching over to shake his hand. "Hey man, it's good to see you back in town. How's your journey treating ya?"

"Well, ya know, it never quits," Ash raises his shoulders with pride. "Still competing with my teams, you should come check them out some time at Oak's lab."

"I'd love that," Will says, turning to face the red-head. "And-and you are?" He asks voice cracking and lips parted. Miss Rosa's attention darts between her grandson and Misty, earning a suspicious look from Ash.

"Misty," she gives her name. "The leader of the Cerulean City Gym."

Will whistles, appearing impressed. "A city girl out here in the boonies," he points out, eyebrows raised. His grandmother pinches his arm, sending him a not so discreet towards Misty using her eyebrows.

Miss Rosa waves her tiny hand in the air. "Willy, take care of them for me, please. I'll be out back." With his grandmother gone, Will lets out a long sigh before sending Ash and Misty an honest look from behind the counter.

"She's a hand full, huh?"

"She seems…caring," Misty admits, walks towards the counter and begins eyeing all the treats around. "You must have some patience."

Misty earns a laugh from Will.

"So," Will says, settling behind the counter, "what can I get for you?"

Ash nods towards the arrangement of flavors. "Shaved ice, man."

"What flavor?"

"I'll have the green tea," he replies, stepping forward and closing some of the distance between him and Misty. "And she wants-"

"How about you, Misty?" Will cuts him off as Ash blinks in slight shock.

"Cherry, please," she says warmly.

Will's mouth quirks up into a half-smile. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"That's my favorite flavor," he replies, shaving the ice cubes into a light and fluffy mound. Quickly, he mixes the green and red syrup into their orders and pours condensed milk.

He places the cups into their hands. Ash and Misty eagerly place their treat into their mouths, both known to be weak for sugar.

"Dude," Ash breathes deeply. "You're a miracle worker."

The shy boy scratches the back of his head out of embarrassment. "Nah I just learned from the best," he assures. "What do you think, Cerulean?"

"It's delicious," Misty tells him. "Ash and I may have to come back tomorrow…and the day after that."

"I wouldn't mind making it for you every day if you'd like."

The sincerity in his tone catches Misty off guard. Lifting a brow in curiosity, letting out an awkward chuckle. "Smart guy," she exclaims, swirling her treat. "Tempting me with an offer like that."

"You think so?" Will asks, nervously chewing at his bottom lip.

Ash stares at him in confusion but he pays no mind to Ash's wide eyes, instead, the stock boy's focus remains on Misty. The leaning in, the hint of nervousness to his voice, and the subtle biting of the lips. Misty is not new to attention or flirting tactics. She finds it somewhat strange to receive attention from someone Ash has known since he was a child. She hasn't experienced it in a long time but Ash's reaction to guy's sweet talking her always brought up strange emotions. He was usually immature, picking fights or trying to distract them with a battle.

In a way, it was like he was treated like a little brother pushed to the sidelines as she was asked a million questions and given strange compliments with a side of flowers. Misty thought she always handled attention well, but it seemed to drive Ash nuts that strong trainers would rather speak to her than take part in a battle.

Years have developed Ash, and Misty knows well that it's unlikely every interaction for him has to result in a battle. That's not all that matters to Ash Ketchum.

She takes another bite, enjoying the treat and how quickly Will handed her a napkin when some syrup got on the side of her mouth. "Ah, thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, flushing obviously. "I wasn't kidding about the offer. Seeing you enjoy our shaved ice is enough for me to give you an endless supply."

Misty blushed. "Come on, I'd run you out of business. I'm sure you say that to everyone that walks in here."

"Yeah, where's my offer of a lifetime of shaved ice?" Ash steps in, teasing Will with a shit-eating grin.

"The offer stands for cute gym leaders and league champions only, my dude," he playfully counters, wiping his hands on his apron.

In response, Ash chokes on his bite of shaved ice causing a choking frenzy. He did not expect the slight dig at his career. Misty snorts to herself, patting Ash's back as he coughed harshly. Pikachu scurries over, jumping on Ash's shoulder and licking his cheek trying to comfort him. "I'm good buddy," Ash assures, nuzzling against his pokemon's yellow coat. He feeds Pikachu a spoonful of green tea slush and gives Misty a dry look.

"Thanks for laughing at me dying," he says, letting out a short cough.

"You're welcome," she teases, her smile innocent and cherry stained.

Will offers an apologetic glance towards Ash. "I'm just kidding," he tells him. "It's not every day that we see you back in Pallet. Every time you stop for a visit you're back on the road within a few days. Us locals wonder about all kinds of adventures you've had."

Ash doesn't find it in himself to look Will in the eye.

"…Yeah, it's been a while," the trainer says, words stumbling out of his mouth. "I'm planning on staying longer than usual, just to catch up with Kanto."

He looks as if he doesn't really know what else to say.

The townie grins in return. "You haven't missed much. Pallet Town still has fields….and flowers and really tall grass."

Ash laughs weakly at Will's attempt at a joke. "Guess I haven't missed much," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Misty shoots Ash a concerned glance, noticing slight uneasiness in his tone of voice. Her mind jumps to the letter he sent when he admitted to homesickness and a break and taking time for his mom.

They haven't discussed Ash's in-depth reasoning for taking a break from his journey or his plans for his extended stay.

"So, is there anything else I can get for you?"

Their ears perk up at the question.

In the corner of the store, Misty notices a display of brown bottles. Bottles of locally brewed beer. Bottles of Western Kantonian whiskey.

Before Ash had anything to say, she turns to Will with zeal ridden on her face.

"Actually…."

. . .

"Did he like, like you or something?"

"Ash, what kind of question is that?" Misty's head jerks to see him almost dropping one of the beer bottles on the floor.

"Misty, I think Will liked, liked you," he emphasizes, pushing past her and putting the beers in the fridge next to last night's leftovers.

"Uh huh," she mumbles, dumping out the remains of their lunch into the trash and putting the cooler to the side. She quickly washes their Tupperware and sets them out to dry.

Ash watches her with furrowed eyebrows as he puts the cooler and rods in the closest.

"What's with that face?" She asks with caution.

"If you marry Will, does that mean you inherit the shaved ice properties?"

"Why, jealous?"

"Jealous? Of Will? That's funny." Ash scoffs. His flushed cheeks tell her otherwise.

"I meant jealous of me," she laughs, fighting back the urge to tease him. His face twisted in embarrassment.

"Uhhhhhh-" he flushes, looking at everything but her face, doing his best to seem nonchalant.

She didn't have enough energy to continue a conversation that would probably end in taking a joke too far and defensive tactics.

"On that note," she says, a crease in her eyebrows. "I'm going to wash up before dinner."

"Cool cool," he tells her before taking off his jacket and slamming himself on his mother's couch for a good stretch.

"Don't get too comfortable," she says from the staircase. "We still gotta eat."

He sends her a peace sign.

While upstairs Misty changes into a large baseball t-shirt she got from a Starmie-Electabuzz game she went to last year. She washes her face and hands, taking a long stretch before coming downstairs to find Ash peacefully napping with Pikachu on his chest.

Misty melts over the tender sight.

Deciding to leave Ash to sleep for a bit, she heads into the kitchen and heats up the curry Delia made for them. Misty measures the rice for the rice cooker and hopes the measurements are correct.

All that needed to be done was the table.

She walks quietly to the couch, kneeling beside Ash and a curled-up Pikachu. For a small moment, she takes him in noticing the little stains on his shirt and how he was in dire need of a haircut. Her mind jumps to the thought of how warm he would feel if she pressed her lips to his forehead. Misty reaches to brush Ash's hair out of his eyes, her heart stumbles as his eyelids fluttered open. The embarrassment comes over her like a crashing wave and she retracts her hand like she touched a burning flame.

Misty's behind almost hits the floor in panic.

 _Holy shit_ , she internally screams. All she could do was blink at his drowsy expression.

"Howdy," Ash yawns, his voice husky and dreamy. He stretches his arms and Misty feels her throat tighten.

"Howdy?"

"You've had me up since dawn," Ash mumbles, petting Pikachu awake. "So sorry if I say something stupid."

Misty, in a combination of attracted and nervous, replies, "Ash, everything you say is something stupid." She avoids looking into his stupid big brown eyes.

"Har har," he snorts, propping himself up from the couch. "Got anything for me to do?" Ash, in a caveman way, scratches his stomach under his shirt causing Misty to almost chokes on her own spit at the slither of tanned skin showing.

Find some chill, she tells herself.

"Set the table, please?"

"Misstyyy," he whines, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Let's eat on the couch and watch some TV!"

Misty glares at him and Ash pouts in response, his bottom lip sticking out. "Ash, no. Set the table."

"Let's sit togetherrrrr," he practically sings.

He has her beat. "Fine," the redhead sighs, tilting her hip towards the kitchen. "But you're fixing up our plates."

"No problem!" Ash says with a crooked smile, turning on his heel with a yawning Pikachu towing right behind.

He doesn't catch her lips twitch into a goofy grin as she watched him serve the curry and rice. A sleepy Pikachu settled by his own bowl of berries and rice, getting ready to eat before crashing out anywhere soft. Misty grabbed two beers and settled on the couch, secretly hoping Delia Ketchum doesn't find a curry stain somewhere on her furniture.

Ash practically skips into the living room, carrying two plates of curry and utensils. He hands Misty her plate before settling into the seat beside her.

She opens the bottles of beer swiftly, handing a bottle to Ash. He takes a large sip, balancing the curry on his lap and the remote in his other hand. Misty laughs at the sight, "You're good at multitasking."

"I'm the very best," he grins into his beer. "Now, what should we watch?"

"Well-"

"You wanna watch battling? Oh, word! Sounds good to me!" Ash changes the channel to a live tournament. On screen, a poisoned ninetails was using a fire-type attack on a weary vileplume. "You suck."

"Look at that sick Fire Blast!"

Misty senses a screaming match between Ash and television coming on. She tries to push down her grin as she watches her best friend's young adult face morph into his old giddy self. It was cute.

Her attention flickers from the trainer to the hot plate and eagerly eats a spoonful after spoonful as the vileplume mistakenly cast a sunny-day attack.

. . .

"That is so unfair!" Ash gapes in outrage and disbelief at the results of the battle to which Misty shrugs. "I call rematch! Did they really allowed them to carry items just like that—"

"It is what it is," she cuts in, placing their empty dishes on the side table. They were two beers in each and Ash almost threw an empty at the television. "Aimee was in deep shit the minute Natalie's Ninetails knocked out her Vileplume," Misty offers with a shrug. "She depended too much on attacks that inflict status conditions and not strengthening the actual special defense. Vileplume could dish it out but couldn't take it."

Ash groans, sinking deeper into his mom's couch. "That's true…."

"Good battle though," she admits, eyeing the commentary of the match on the screen.

"Oh totally," he agrees. "Unfair but still good. Kanto always has the best matches on television compared to all that censored crap in Kalos and Unova."

"Your league battles weren't boring at least, I got a kick out of them."

He gives her a half-smile. "That's why you're so proud of me."

"Don't get it twisted," Misty warns, throwing a pillow at his smug expression. Chuckling, he catches the pillow.

A commercial from The Pokétch Company comes on and Pikachu snuggles against a couch cushion on the floor, dozing off.

Ash breaks away from the screen. "So, what should we do now?"

Misty, slightly buzzed and thirsty for fresh air, sits in thought. Remembering the handle of whiskey and how she wasn't quite ready to end their day. She still had questions. Currently, with her mind going to war with her heart, Misty refused to let the jitters and roaming thoughts drown her. Denial is her own personal prison, but she'd swallow denial in brown liquor just for some time with Ash under the moonlight. Full of laughter and conversation and memories.

"How dangerous would it be to take shots of whiskey on your roof?"

Ash's grin was as slick as the Devil's.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it! please comment! i'm not sure if these sorts of stories are what people seek out when trying to read pokeshipping but i intend to unravel their bond in my own way with this story. i hope you value their friendship and love and dedication as much as i do! either way sap will be coming soon. please send me your favorite ash and misty headcanons. a girl's gotta eat.


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't own anything!

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**"laugh until we think we'll die,**

**barefoot on a summer night"**

The trainers leave Pikachu downstairs, laughing at how the cute little face can simultaneously look judgmental and sleepy.

Ash steps over his dirty clothes on the way to his bedroom window, a bottle of whiskey in hand. Misty scrunches her nose at his patterned boxers thrown on the floor by the door.

"Gross."

He looks over his shoulder. "Don't judge me."

With one hand, Ash opens the window panels. "After you," he says.

Misty carefully pushes herself through the window, holding onto Ash's hand for support as she steadies herself on the roof tile. Ash follows right after, holding onto her shoulder for support.

They crawl up higher on the roof, finding a stable spot to sit.

The trainers take a moment to breathe. There's a humming in the restless summer air and for a moment Misty worries if it's a horde of beedril hiding in the treetops around the residence.

"How messed up would it be if a horde of beedril just flies right at us right now?"

"Yeah, you'd sacrifice me in a heartbeat," Ash points out with certainty as he twists the top of the whiskey.

"Damn straight I would," she replies, watching Ash wince at the swig he takes from the bottle. Ash's eyes almost pop out of his head, face twisted and eyes watering but he still maintains a grasp on the neck of the bottle.

It looked like the shot was electricity traveling down his spine. Ash coughed dramatically, sticking his tongue out at Misty. "It burnssss."

Misty snorts at him, reaching for the whiskey. She takes her own shot, knocking it back for the liquor to travel straight down her throat and settling warm and pleasant in her stomach. She is careful not to let it sit on her tongue for so long but that doesn't stop the tingle. Lily, the most experienced drinker of the Sensational Sisters, taught her how to take a shot quick and painless. The first couple of tries had Misty coughing up a storm and spewing vodka from her nose.

"Does is it not taste like a burnt tire to you?" he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloves. "Because I kind of hate how easy you took that."

"Practice, I guess," she says with a shrug.

"I don't know why but I have the urge to bow down to you and praise…"

"Honestly, I wouldn't mind it," Misty laughs, nudging her shoulder against his. "As cool and beautiful as I am, as Master of Shots, I think there are way more important things worthy of praise."

Ash stretches his arms towards the sky and cracks his bones. "Things like what?"

"Like the stars," Misty replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The galaxy above them held her attention, twinkles of starlight shining in the reflection of her eyes.

Ash's head jerks upwards, a curious look on his face. He finds the moon against a blanket of darkness, decorated with dots of never-ending light. Pallet Town was blessed with a garden of stars while cities like Cerulean or Viridian had a few bright soldiers guarding the night.

"They  _are_  pretty," Ash says, words slurring slightly.

Misty admires the stars for their role in the universe and how they illuminate the night sky, making it seem like less of a void and more of a special dream-like place you want to wish on. She wonders what the stars see from their point of view, the worlds and stories they ponder in on. She wonders if the stars know about Ash and her, their friendship and how long she waited for a rare moment like this (after all, they've spent many nights out under the stars). She hopes that they aren't disappointed in them for drinking and messing around. She fears that they see past her skin and straight into her soul if they know her true feelings and insecurities and secrets.

"It's hard to see the stars in Cerulean," Misty tells him, counting the specks of light. "You know I sometimes go out by the cape at night for Staryu and Starmie. Believe it or not but I feel like they can communicate with the cosmos or something, like their own language."

He gives her a shit-eating grin. "No way! Do you really believe that?"

"Crazier stuff happens. It's almost like they talk to the universe."

Ash's face turns serious. "I'd give my left nut to talk to the universe."

With a burst of laughter, she chokes at his tone of voice. "Ash, I hate you for saying that but honestly, I feel the same way," Misty says, pointing to her lower regions. "Even though I have no nut to give."

"That's a shame." He shakes his head, craning his neck to look up at the sky.

With all her insecurities and doubts, moments of peace and laughter and comfort make up for it all. Even if the cosmos were against her.

Now she felt slightly exposed—only her and him and the night sky. She reflects on the number of times she has looked towards the sky at night and thinks of him, wondering if he is on the other side of the world thinking of her too. Flashes of sharing sleeping bags, the heat of the jungle and collecting firewood cross her memory. It made her almost want to scream his name and her heart out into the nothingness.

Instead, Misty takes a swig of whiskey and prays to the cosmos that her wallows drown in the amber-colored liquor. She feels her face grow hot and hands the bottle to Ash.

He whistles lowly.

"Damn, dude—this stuff hits harder than anything I ever tried." Ash winces at how the baby shot burned his tongue. "Like I've had wines and stuff from Kalos but this is something that can melt paint from a sports car."

Misty blinks, loo a bit taken back. Ash and Kalosian wine?

"Ash Ketchum," she sings his name, poking his cheek. "You didn't tell me you were a wine connoisseur."

"I am a man of culture," he retorts jokingly, a little too prideful.

"I mean, Cilan technically introduced me to wine. He was really into the red stuff but Serena liked rosé so once in a while I would have a glass with her."

Misty grins at the thought of Ash sniffing a glass of wine at a restaurant in the middle of Lumiose City. She imagines candlelight and Serena, beautiful and golden Serena, smiling into her blush colored glass.

Her stomach flips.

"So," she begins, "tell me about me more about Kalos."

Ash takes a moment to collect his thoughts, scratching at his cheek.

"Well, I met the most amazing pokémon. I'll introduce them to you soon! You would die if you met my greninja but uh, I released him."

Misty pictures the fight scene between the water pokémon and a black Charizard in her head. She remembers how Tracey, Brock and her gasped at the strength of such strong attacks go back and forth between Ash and his opponent Alain. Tracey almost broke the flat screen.

Ash and his greninja were an amazing team she would love to see in action in person. There was always something about Ash and his relationship water pokémon that made Misty giddy. Not that her pride would ever let that small fact be known to the public.

"I'd love to meet him someday, but I might be tempted to steal him away from you," she teases, giving Ash a dopey kind of smile she gets on her face when talking about water pokémon.

"Like some Team Rocket grunt," he fires back with a playful huff, eyes narrowed. "I dare you to try."

"Ketchum, I'm a gym leader," Misty replies. "I take challenges pretty seriously."

Ash lets out a big laugh. "Boy, do I know it."

"Okay but seriously, I can't wait to meet him. He battles like a ninja—it's  _amazing_  to see. You trained him well, Ash. You should be proud."

He stares at Misty for a few seconds, processing her praise and blinking slowly. "Thanks," he says, slightly slurring. "My team really got us far this round." Ash falls silent, leaning his arm on his knee, wearing a contemplative expression and a thin smile.

She chews on her bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing with concern over the lapse of quiet, and questions what exactly were the spiral of thoughts circling Ash's mind. And if there was anything she can do to ease them.

"You know," she began, "I wonder what Clemont, Bonnie and Serena would think of Kanto."

Ash grins. "I think they'd love it. Clemont would get a kick out of the cities and all the weird technology we got. Bonnie we'd probably have to keep him on a leash from all her excitement."

"It's funny but Serena's actually been to Kanto before—she was sent to Pallet when she was little and that's when we met." He rubs the back of his neck, looking up at the sky with a pensive look on his face.

Ash never mentioned that detail.

Misty tilts her head to the side. "No way," spills out of her mouth in a slur. "You've met Serena before?"

Ash pauses, wearing a slither of a smile. "Years ago, at Oak's camp. Her mom sent her and she hated it. I don't remember our meeting but Serena told me that she hurt herself and I was there to patch her up. She said I wrapped a handkerchief around her scraped knee and led her out of the forest."

He turns and meets her eyes. "The handkerchief—she returned it to me after all those years. I felt bad that I didn't remember but soon enough we became friends and it all felt right."

Misty thinks of her own sunset handkerchief, given to Ash the day they separated, and their lives changed forever. All of her young heart sewn into the silk tied around Brock's homemade lunch put into Ash's hands.

Misty knows what that cloth meant to her, in all it's pinks and reds and yellows. She wonders what Ash's meant to Serena.

"You must have been important to her," she says quietly, an edge of sympathy hanging from her tongue.

"She matters to me, too."

He goes quiet. The energy between them grew slightly heavier.

She looks at the bottle of hard liquor and wonders if he would prefer light wine.

"Misty, can I ask you a personal question?"

The redhead blinks, a little anxious about the seriousness of his tone.

"Yeah, I mean as long as it isn't gross," she tells him, trying to sound lighthearted.

Ash leans in closely. "Have you—have you ever been kissed before?"

Misty blinks again and feels a rush of blood through her skin. Her attention flickers from his lips to his eyes and back and forth till her mind twirls into a tizzy.

"Yeah…a few times," she musters, swallowing her nerves.

A boy comes to mind. Deep yet bright sky-blue eyes shutting close, his hands quivering on her neck as he softly leaned into her till he misdirected and knocked his forehead around hers. She chuckled and he looked like he wanted to die but for that moment, it was perfectly imperfect and made her feel special. The first kiss was so soft that she barely remembers what it was like to press her lips against his but she remembers the way he melted. She remembers how he told her how amazing she was, how beautiful and strong and lucky he was to even know her. How she had to shut his stuttering up with another kiss before her face turned permanently red and flushed.

Ash leans closer into her, watching her carefully. "Were they fans of yours?"

Seafoam eyes widening, Misty gapes at him. "No! You're crazy!"

"Why so defensive?"

Misty sucks her teeth, heat rising to her cheeks. "It was mostly just  _one_  guy."

All Ash does is blink at her.

"….My friend Georgio," she manages her face as pink as a Pecha berry. "What makes you think I go around kissing fans?"

He scratches the back of his neck, looking immature as he fumbles with his words. "I don't know! You and your sisters always have weird guys trying to sniff your feet and stuff."

"Ash," Misty deadpans, "I hate you."

She doesn't mean it but hearing Ash talk about things he has no clue about offends her. He doesn't know about the unwanted attention she receives from fans or the strange comments regarding her sisters. As a gym leader, she is a public figure and representative of Cerulean City. It's not only about men wanting to sniff feet, but it's also about what it means to be developing into a woman with a whole city and region watching you. The expectation of letting go of your younger body and mind, leaving those feelings behind.

He doesn't know that he's part of those feelings. He doesn't know that she's been holding onto him for a long time.

"I'm sorry. I just—I don't know how to approach the subject, okay?"

"Well, then why the question?" she asked with a tint of annoyance, registering the twitch in his fingers. The uneasiness in his facial expression had her eyeing him carefully.

"….Serena kissed me," Ash rasps, looking down at the roof tile under him. "Before she left for Hoenn."

The words spill out and she can't help but notice how he slightly slurs the S in Serena, something in his tone showing that it left him feeling some type of way.

Misty blinks in confusion, her eyebrows knitting together. She doesn't know how to react but she resists the negative emotions arising, that twist in the stomach at the thought of Ash being kissed. Her memories search for Melody and Bianca and the pecks to the cheek that had her stunned. She is taken back by the fact that Ash is talking about it with such tension caught in his throat.

"…Was it consensual?" She asks first.

Ash is taken aback. "No! Don't get it twisted, I was caught off-guard yeah but not in a way… that I was against it."

"Oh."

"Yeah, um. It was short."

"How…." She bit her lip, stroking her arm as she looked at anything but Ash. "How did it make you feel?" Misty manages to ask, nervousness seeping into her like spilled wine on a silk blouse.

"Like a kid," he replies, brows furrowed. "All I could do was give her a smile as she left with no explanation. I didn't follow her, I didn't do anything. I don't even know if I was  _supposed_  to. I—I'm confused."

Misty finally looks at him again. The vulnerability, his honesty brought her to a decision: her feelings for him could wait.

Ash didn't need a declaration of love right now. He needs a friend.

"It's okay to be confused," she tells him truthfully. "It's okay to feel the way you do. Stuff like that isn't…easy."

She thinks of Georgio looking at her like she puts stars in the sky but with such a solemn weep in his eyes, watery because their end was inevitable. Misty thinks of how cruel she must've been reaching for his hand, kissing his throat and laughing at his lame baseball puns.

With the tilt of her head, she awkwardly takes a baby sip from the bottle as she catches Ash suck in his teeth.

"But part of me wants to know why she didn't say something?" Ash admits, clenching his fists. "I would have given her a proper answer."

"Well, you really don't know what she would've said," Misty points out, gripping the bottle.

"She could have started with her feelings," Ash explains with slight frustration, pressing a fist to the palm of his hand and cracking his knuckles.

She swallows the heavy lump in her throat, her saliva mixed with the earthy taste of the liquor. It wasn't directed at her but the comment made her feel vulnerable and reminded her of the countless words of advice given to her from Brock or Daisy or Tracey or whoever thought they had a right to direct her emotions. Words, full of good intentions, yet lacking a sense of what it is to love someone so far away from you. Even when Ash is near, even when he is right in front of her, she knows it is only temporary. She wonders how Serena felt when she realizes that the adventure that was being with Ash Ketchum was momentary, cut to a halt by the next dirt path that would take him on another journey.

Misty doesn't know Serena. She knows she doesn't have a right to feel connected to her and yet, in some way, she empathizes with her. Misty thinks of the golden girl from the photos, her joyful expression. Thinking about Ash and Serena sharing a kiss for a slither of a moment, Misty wonders about Serena's intentions then immediately forces her mind to come to a hazy blank.

Picturing the kiss or trying to dissect how either Serena or Ash felt intrusive. Misty doesn't know their friendship. Misty clings on to the Ash she knows with a firm grip, her memories and postcards keeping her very much full of love for him and yet there are parts of him she doesn't recognize. Serena, Bonnie, and Clemont have seen sides of Ash that Misty is just now meeting and it's more than the height and muscle gain; it's his acknowledgment of his feelings. The rasp of frustration in his voice when vocalizing his confusion over a good-bye kiss from a friend.

Ash wants to know why Serena left him in the dark but Misty knows enough to understand how complicated matters of the heart are when it revolves around Ash Ketchum.

"That's asking a lot of someone, Ash. Maybe Serena wasn't ready or she is okay with what you are now."

"If she does have any sort of feelings for me, then how can she just be okay with just being friends?" he asks, his voice sounding strange and foreign and full of husk that she isn't accustomed to just quite yet.

"Maybe it's enough for her."

 _Most of the time_ , she thinks to herself,  _it's enough for me._

Ash snaps his head and makes eye contact with Misty, his dark eyes fierce and emotional. "Well, what if it isn't for me?!"

With that, Misty chokes. She twitches awkwardly, feeling a tipsy warmth spread across her skin. "What?"

She secretly hopes that only the stars notice her reaction. The cool air hits her burning cheeks as mixed emotions tangle within her. Misty fights herself from taking another sip of liquor with fear that if she continues, she won't stop until she is vomiting off of Delia Ketchum's roof with hot tears pouring out of her face.

Ash blinks, realization slowly approaching him. His cheeks grow pinker as he crosses his arms over his chest defensively. "I mean, she didn't even give me a chance to talk about it with her. We're friends, we should be able to open to each other but…"

Misty senses she stares for a little too long. He looks off to the side. "Whatever."

Disbelief overcomes her as she heats up.  _What does that even mean?_  Misty internally questions, eyebrows furrowing. Ash isn't going to go on to admit something in front of her then just shrug it off as if she wasn't hanging off to his words.

Misty is struck with something bordering infuriated and strong as she collects herself. "No," she insists, ignoring the unsettling feeling pooling in her gut to tighten her voice. "Not  _whatever_. Ash, be honest, do you like Serena?"

Ash reluctantly drags his eyes over to her until his find hers. The question dangles in the air delicately, stagnant between them as Misty waits for something to come out of him.

Misty impatiently smacks the roof tile with a flat, hard hand in the space between them causing Ash to wince.

"Misty! My mom will notice if one of her tiles are broken."

"She will not, and you need to realize something before you continue on demanding things you aren't entirely sure you want."

Ash frowns. "What happened to 'it's asking a lot of someone', huh?"

Unapologetically, Misty stands a bit straighter, eyeing him like she didn't understand a word he was implying with a slight shake of her head. "I don't recall."

"That's just like you, Misty! You go on being so self-righteous and changing your views when it suits you!"

Now, if she truly felt any fury, she would've dangled him by his ankles off his mother's roof. Misty settles on flaring her nostrils, cracking her fingers as she lessens the heat of her glower.

They have called each other far worse through their years of friendship but she would be lying if she wasn't insecure about her pride and habit of condescension.

A younger Misty would have him gripping the edge of the roof in fear and calling her name till she decided it was time to pull him back up but it would be too easy. It is far more difficult to face your issues than to dangle off a high ledge. At least it is from her perspective, given how she has internalized and swallowed most of her romantic feelings for anyone.

"Oh, that's rich," Misty says, biting each word and rolling her hazy eyes. "Sorry for believing you should figure out your own feelings before you go around demanding to know the other person's."

Ash doesn't shrink or squirm at the tone of her voice.

"It's not like that! I don't expect anything from Serena but it's confusing and new and I really have no clue how to go about this.

She huffs hot air from her nostrils, bits of anger subsiding. "Just be honest with yourself. You don't have to answer me or say it out loud but the least you can do is be honest with yourself, Ash."

He looks like he fell victim to an electric attack or a pin missile. Stung by weight of the conversation, Ash's jaw clamps shut.

Seconds feel like minutes as her words hang in the air.

Looking slightly shaken, Ash clutches his hand over his chest. "…I don't know how I feel about Serena yet," is his reply.

The sincerity dripping from his expression melts the residing scowl on her face into a neutral, accepting curl of the lip. "Are you okay with not knowing?" she wonders aloud.

Ash lets his hand fall, and admits with a hint of realization, "For now, yeah."

"Then, for now, it's okay," is her response. "I hope when you know how you feel, that you're happy."

 _I want nothing but for you to be happy_ , she wishes to herself, tucking away the sound of her heartstrings strumming every time even thinks of him. Letting her gaze cast towards the sky then to Ash, Misty's redlined eyes go wide with surprise when she realizes how carefully he is watching her.

"You good?" Misty croaks, attempting to clear her throat but only managing to taste the residual whiskey on her tongue.

"I'm fine but—" Ash pauses, reaching over to grab the bottle from Misty. "I'm just thinking of how thoughtful you are."

Her heartstrings reemerge and rumble with a loud pang at the softness of his tone. Biting her bottom lip, Misty reminds herself of her standards and that she is aware of thoughtful she can be so hearing it from Ash isn't  _that_  big of a deal.

"Wow, thanks for noticing," she manages with an awkward grunt/chuckle.

He playfully knocks his shoulder into hers before bringing the bottle to his lips. "Mist, you know what I mean—" he begins, tilting the liquor to his mouth and down his throat in a satisfying hiss. "—You actually share your thoughts instead of just telling me what I want to hear. You've always told me what I needed to hear even if I'm not always listening."

She doesn't admit it but there are some words that he needs to hear from her. Words that will take more than a few shots of whiskey to pour out of her.

An explanation that their not-so-ordinary friendship always came before her heart, how her heart never stops asking for just something more. The feeling that it was no mere coincidence, that they were inseparable yet constantly separated by refracting roads. Admitting that no matter where he is or who he is with, she truly, completely loves Ash Ketchum.

Her words are protective, not always truthful so Misty settles for saying, "You listening? It's not as crazy as it sounds."

He makes an amused snort before rolling his shoulder into hers once more. "…Sorry I called you self-righteous," Ash apologizes, stretching his legs out in effort to get more comfortable.

"Ash?" she calls his name with a slight smile.

"Hm?

"I have to tell you something, come closer,"

He listens to Misty, sliding closer to her side.

Sitting close, she quickly puts his ear between her fingers, giving it a tug and pull.

"Ow!" He yelps, his mouth wide open.

Letting go, Misty grins with a giggly chirp and crosses her arms over her knees. "Now we're even," she says, forgiving him.

Rubbing his ear, Ash exaggerates a painful pout.

"Can I ask you something?"

He looks up at the question and gives Misty a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, sure."

On a slow exhale of breath, she asks, "Why are you staying in Kanto?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, wearing a curious look.

"Well," she begins, "you rarely stay here longer than a week so when you wrote that you would be coming back for some type of break, I was curious."

She pauses.

"What changed?" Misty asked.

Craning his neck up towards the night sky, Ash's slack jaw shifts into a faulty, uneasy grin. "I guess I do have the habit from jumping from region to region," he says, quieter than before. "Remember how I told you I was feeling pretty homesick?"

"I have to admit, I did a double take," she says, remembering the cheerfulness of his letter and reflecting how he looked before her in the moment. "I never expected you to admit something like that when all you really focus on is the next battle."

He throws her a look. She searches for the emotion behind it but her fogged mind blurs her sense of detection. Ash is usually transparent, his soul made of glass. See through and honest but age seemed to morph parts of him to an individual she couldn't pick apart and digest. A scary, exciting feeling to look at her old friend and discover he has changed beyond his height and weight.

To hear the voice of a man, not the cheer of a child.

"To be honest, I've been realizing that because battling is my life that there is this sort of…imbalance. My dream is far from over but on the way, I've forgotten what it means to be there for mom's birthday. What it feels like to walk through a town where everyone knows your name. To spend more than just a few days with my pokémon and friends. Before, just visiting was enough but then I noticed during a video call that Prof. Oak's hair was not even gray anymore, it's white."

He takes in a deep breath, his shoulders shaking.

"I was so close this time, Misty. I'm proud of my team for getting us so far and I know my people are proud of me but it still  _stung_. It was in this dark place that I started questioning if it's me that's the problem."

"Ash," she calls out his name firmly, clutching her nails into her palm. "You are not a problem."

"With all my losses, it sure can feel that way."

"Like you said, your dream is far from over. What's meant to be, will be and we both know what you're meant for, Ash. Not because it's your destiny but because you've worked for it. Countless losses, sure whatever but how  _dare_ you discredit your victories?"

"They can only mean so much unless I know what it's all good for," he tells her. "And I don't know if I can just…jump to the next stage of my journey without some grasp on why some parts of my life aren't enough and what needs to change."

Misty wants to disagree, wants to tell him that his victories don't need to be engraved in gold for the world to see to mean something, but she respects him and the validity of his feelings of doubt.

She bites her tongue, takes a sharp breath through her nostrils. "Well, it is only natural for you to take a break."

"Which is why I want to be in Kanto. I can see my pokemon on the daily and train more strategically. Spending time with mom can be so much easier, or I can even out Professor Oak and Trace down at the lab and learn a few things. Hell, I want to even go out to a college party with Brock and try new different sort of drinks that don't taste like rubbing alcohol."

"….Brock would be delighted to hear you say that."

"Yeah and I can have a chance to visit May or Max or Dawn or Cilan or Iris! They can even visit Kanto again."

Smiling softly at Ash, Misty's heart flutters at his vulnerability. She catches that boy she's loved for years in this Ash's growing excitement.

"And you know, I just miss everyone."

"They miss you too. I know that even when you're halfway around the world, they think of you. They all just want you to be happy."

Misty, feeling slightly embarrassed, shifts her head to the side. "…We just want you to be happy."

Ash looks like he is about to say something, his dark eyes soft with a daze. "To be honest," she drawls, "I mostly just want you to be more concerned with your hygiene."

"I brush my teeth twice a day!"

She snorts at the defensive look on his sour face. Laughter escapes her chest and sends liquor induced tingles across her body. Noticing how her loose her limbs feel, she begins to sway slightly back and forth. Eyes fluttering shut, Misty settles the beating of her faulty heart and lets herself bask in the warmth of a summer night.

She spreads her fingers against the tile underneath, leaning her head back and breathing in the fresh air.

Misty's head snaps back to reality at Ash's brushing his fingers against hers. Ocean eyes dip down to the tan, strong hands next touching hers, then back to his face.

Their gazes snag and her heart beats on.

She wants to tell him that it's getting late and that they should really call it a night, but it does make it past her lips as Ash's hand presses down on Misty's. Startled from the contact, she blinks at him in hesitant confusion.

Ash, stardust and moonlight reflected in his deep eyes, looks at her.

"Misty."

She feels her chest ache.

"I missed you," he tells her, voice soft and warm.

It's then that it sinks in that Ash is not across the world running down an unknown road; Ash is here, and real, and with her.

There aren't days when she mopes by the window sighing, looking out for him like some wife waiting for her soldier to return from war. She works, she trains, she lives on her days. But at the thought of him, the place he holds in her life is very much alive and the feeling of missing him burns through Misty like alcohol. She carries that torch for him like a protected flame close to her, often kept away from peering eyes. Some nights she looks at it, smiles and envelops herself around the desire for warmth. Other nights, she faces away from it as tears drip at the memories of the stories they once experienced together. Journeying through moats and boats and waterfalls, running down hazy city streets in the rain as giggles bubbled out from their childish cheeks. Brock and Tracey often shaking their heads at pay phone prank call to whatever random number dialed. The adventure that was their time spent together.

She missed it. She missed him. And tonight, she faces the flame.

Conflicted, drunk and full of heat, Misty takes her breath to the bottom of her lungs and holds it there before a shaky exhale.

"Yeah—" Misty says after a moment, voice just as soft. "Me too."

"…Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You seem shaky—" Ash replies with a gesture, gently flexes his thumb over her knuckles. "Your face looks red."

Ash moves closer in an attempt to touch her face and suddenly fear takes hold of her. At that, Misty yanks her hand from under Ash's and scoots away from him in a rapid jolt. The whiskey bottle falls from her side, sliding down in a rhythmic roll to the bottom row of roof shingles. The bottle gets caught in a pocket of the rain gutter.

 _Fuck_ , she curses to herself, slight tears pooling as the realization that she went on and ruined whatever  _that_  was. She feels Ash staring at her and imagining the look on his face is enough for her to hyper fixate on getting away.

"I'll get it." In a rapid motion, Misty lifts her shaky body and takes an uneasy stand. Slightly crouching and stepping down at a diagonal, she reaches towards the bottle.

Before she could even hear the beginning of Ash's warning, two shingles slip from under her feet so fast she could barely let out a scream as she skids down the roof in a single motion.

She falls, the back of her hand scrapping the edge of the roof, and right into Delia Ketchum's prized rose bush with a loud thud. Thorns dig into her flushed skin and she hisses sharply, a long groan escaping her lips as pain takes over her senses. Her eyes catch a glimpse of the night sky, high above, before closing shut.

Ash's screaming is nothing but static as Misty slips away, then everything around her fades out, slowly.

**.**

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**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notes: i've thought about ash and misty and this story a lot. my friend honey of hoenn (apple of my eye) aka princessofhoenn was such a great help for focusing and feedback, please check out her work it's brilliant! anyway, misty is found ded in pallet. please share your thoughts! much love. xoxox


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